The Quidditch Final
by Violet Butterflies
Summary: Just a cute something that popped into my head. John's playing in the final quidditch match of the year and Sherlock is there to support him. Slash and fluff because I love fluff.


**A.N: So this kind of came from nowhere X) I just thought it was a cute idea and it was fun to write. Sadly I don't own either Sherlock or Harry Potter :P Enjoy x**

John Watson was sitting among his fellow Hufflepuffs in the Great Hall and staring at his empty plate. It was the morning of the final quidditch match of the year and his stomach was twisted in knots. He swallowed and reached for the toast, grabbing two slices and starting to eat, trying to ignore the anxiety rearing its head.

The other Hufflepuffs were buzzing with excitement, clapping him and his teammates on the back and saying things like "good luck!" and "break a leg!" and "you're gonna be great!". John's older sister, Harry Watson, had given him a few words of encouragement too. John glanced towards the Slytherin table, noting that their team looked equally unsettled. Neither of the teams had won the quidditch cup in many years and both were anxious to get their hands on it. When the Slytherins caught him staring they smirked at him, their expressions clearly saying they were going to win. John scowled at them but they only laughed.

He jumped when the seat beside him was filled unexpectedly. He turned his head and smiled when he saw it was his best friend, Sherlock Holmes. "You're going to get in trouble for sitting here, you know," John told him, indicating his green and silver tie. Sherlock shrugged and grabbed some toast, promptly stuffing it in his mouth, "I don't care, they're all idiots. Sitting with them made me want to delete how to breathe," he mumbled through his mouthful of food.  
John laughed at him, feeling his worry start to ebb away, "yeah, I can see why it would." He stood up, "I can't eat, I'm too nervous. Walk down to the pitch with me?" Sherlock swallowed and gave him a small smile, "of course."

They made a quick detour to the Hufflepuff dormitories so John could change into his quidditch robes. Sherlock guessed the password, as he always did, "they could at least make it more difficult," he called as he sat in an armchair by the fire and waited for John, "I mean, /badger/ has to be the most obvious one yet, for Hufflepuff."

John emerged from the dorm with his broomstick, a very nice Cleensweep Seven, in his hand. He swung it over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow, "I don't reckon they think of you when they come up with them," he pointed out. Sherlock stood up and led the way put of the common room, "no, I don't suppose they do," he mused.

On the way down to the pitch, Sherlock told John about the experiment he'd been doing the previous night. He was attempting to brew up a complicated potion that was supposed to be N.E.W.T. level but presented no challenge to Sherlock, despite only being a fourth year. John nodded in all the appropriate places and tried not to look too impressed, knowing it would only fuel his friend's already overly large ego.

Sherlock was about half a head taller than John, which used to irritate John no end since he was a year older, but he didn't mind anymore. John was in fifth year and the O.W.L.s were looming but Sherlock assured him he'd do perfectly fine. "You're intelligent. You'll pass everything, unlike that idiot, Anderson," he'd said dryly, "I'll be surprised if he can even scrape an A." John had laughed at him.

John's anxiety returned as they neared the pitch, a few students already showing up to wait for the match to begin. John swallowed, his throat suddenly dry and took a deep breath to calm down. It'll be fine, he assured himself. He turned to face Sherlock, "I have to go," he said reluctantly, nodding towards the changing tent, where he knew the team captain would be waiting. Greg Lestrade was in his final year of Hogwarts and he was near desperate to win this.  
Sherlock nodded, "I'll be watching you, you'll be fine." John smiled and offered his hand for his friend to shake it, that being what they usually did when they parted ways.

Sherlock ignored his hand and surprised John by smiling and wrapping his arms around his neck in a hug. John blinked and hugged back, his arms around Sherlock's waist. "Good luck John," Sherlock muttered into his hair and he stepped back swiftly, "go on then," he said a bit awkwardly.

John made his way into the tent and picked up his beater's bat, noticing the rigid way his captain was sitting. He sat down beside him, "don't worry," he tried to soothe, "we're gonna win. I know we will." Lestrade offered a weak smile and eyed the door, waiting for the rest of the team. When they showed up, Lestrade gave them all a quick pep talk as usual and they left the tent to walk onto the pitch. They were met with the cheers of the Hufflepuffs along with the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, who didn't wish for the Slytherins to triumph. The Slytherins boo-ed and hissed at them, but John paid no mind to them. As Lestrade shook the hand of the Slytherin captain, Sebastian Moran, he peered hard among the sea of green for a tall figure with a mop of black curls. He didn't see him but didn't let it bother him for the moment as they all mounted their brooms and the snitch was released.

The game was on. The Chasers immediately begun fighting over the quaffle and trying to score through the hoops, the Keepers deflecting and occasionally letting one through by mistake, much to their own frustration. The Seekers flew around the edge of the pitch, keeping their distance from the chaos and searching hard for the snitch at the same time. John, along with the other Beaters, wove in and out of the fray, hitting bludgers away from their team mates and aiming at the opposing players. A Slytherin Beater whacked a well aimed shot at the Hufflepuff Keeper, knocking him out of the air and allowing for six shots to be taken in a row before he could return. John could hear the dispair from the students clad in yellow, red and blue.

Suddenly, amongst the block of yellow he noticed a small speck of green. He narrowed his eyes and then widened them when he realised it was Sherlock, standing and cheering with the Hufflepuffs who had graciously allowed him to, despite his house. Hufflepuffs were accepting in that way. He grinned widely in the direction of his friend. He almost didn't see the bludger that was shooting towards his head rapidly. He turned his head just in time and let out a curse and swung his broom around quick, belting the bludger with his bat towards a Slytherin Chaser.

At that moment, he saw the Slytherin Seeker, James Moriarty, take a straight dive for something glittering in the sunlight. John stopped in midair and stared, so did everyone else except Moriarty and the Hufflepuff Seeker, Carl Powers. He was flying full tilt towards the snitch as well, desperately trying to catch up. It felt like the whole pitch paused and was was holding its breath as Moriarty's fingers brushed the snitch and fluttered free. Then Powers darted in and closed his hand around it.

The stadium exploded with cheers and the game was won. Powers cheerfully did a lap of the pitch, ushering his team in for a hug, which John gladly took part in. Everybody politely pretended not to see the tears decorating Lestrade's face that he would later deny had been there at all. They landed and were presented with the quidditch cup, the whole team holding it together and raising it with a cheer. The Hufflepuff students all gathered around them, Harry among the crowd, and congratulated them, patting them on the backs and singing victory tunes. Then they steadily began making their way back to the castle, the promise of a magnificent party beckoning them. John hung back slightly, glancing around for his friend. He got his bat and the other Beater's, saying he'll be right up once they are returned.

When he comes out of the tent a voice startles him, "I told you you'd be fine," it said smoothly. John turned and saw Sherlock. He grinned widely, "yeah, you did," he replied. Sherlock walked up to him, his own smile almost as wide as John's, "indeed," he said. John gestured towards the castle, "party in my common room?" he asked, already anticipating the answer. Sherlock hesitated, "no thank you," he said with an apologetic look, "not really my kind of thing," John tilted his head, "hmm, me neither really," he mused.

Sherlock looked almost relieved at John's answer, "Astronomy Tower?" he asked, referring to the place they spent the majority of their free time. John nodded eagerly, "sure." Sherlock hesitated, just like he did earlier that morning. "I'm glad you won," he told him slowly. Amusement glinted in John's eyes, "thanks," he chuckled, idly wondering what his friend was doing.

Sherlock stepped forward with a fraction of his usual confidence, biting his lip. Then he took a deep breath and leaned down towards John's face.  
John froze but didn't move away, head tilted slightly back as his friend leaned in closer and then stopped, wariness flashing in his eyes. John could feels his breath ghosting on his lips and he leaned in and captured Sherlock's lips with his own.

He wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him closer, moving his lips slowly with Sherlock's, knowing his friend was inexperienced in this area. Sherlock kissed back and they remained as they were for several minutes until John pulled away. His breathing was uneven and his smile was impossibly wide. A light blush tinted his friend's cheeks. He traced patterns on the small of his back, "Astronomy Tower?" John repeated the earlier question. Sherlock nodded, "yes."

They began to walk away, side by side, chatting about the match and laughing about the Slytherins' faces when they lost. Sherlock took John's hand, and as they entered the castle John smiled and thought to himself that perhaps winning the quidditch cup was the second best thing that happened to him today.


End file.
